Hypocrite
by Witticism-fails-me
Summary: Everyone's a hypocrite. Harry knows this well after the final battle. DM/HP slashination! Not DH compliant. hinting at a HG/BZ onesided.


_Everyone's a hypocrite._ Harry gazed at his friends, seated around him in a suffocating bubble at the Gryffindor table, Hermione and Ron to his right, Neville to his left, and Ginny on the other side of him. _Ginny said she loved me for who I was, not who everyone else said I was. Then she didn't love me because I wasn't acting like the 'Hero' I was supposed to be. _It was dinner time, but Harry wasn't hungry.

He poked at the roast beef on his plate and sculpted his mashed potatoes into a sloppy imitation of a troll then flattened it viciously with his fork.

"Don't play with your food, Harry." Hermione said in that patronizing tone of voice she had been perfecting since first year. Harry repressed the urge to stick his tongue out at her in a fit of sudden immaturity, she would only scold him more. Instead he took a small bite of his carrots, more so she would stop paying attention to him than in effort to please her high expectations.

_Even you're a hypocrite. _He thought at the back of her head. _Preaching your hate of Slytherins then sneaking looks over at Zabini when you think no one's watching._ It wasn't like he cared, it was his seventh year and with Voldemort's demise all the Death Eaters had died as well, so it wasn't like there were any left in Slytherin.

Looking across the Hall at the table in question, Harry noted dryly to himself that the herd had thinned considerably, many of the seventh years and sixth years were gone, but the lower years only lost one or two. Though in the case of the first years, none were gone.

Slate grey eyes met his in a sudden challenge and Harry couldn't help but smile wryly. It was still a constant source of surprise for him when he saw Malfoy among their midst, of all people he had expected the blonde to have perished.

But he hadn't. _Always failing my expectations. _Harry slid his gaze away from those stony depths, green irises wandering to the other tables. Hufflepuff hadn't lost a single person, which was only to be expected, Ravenclaw had lost their fair number, probably just out of curiosity and the need for knowledge, and then there was Gryffindor.

Harry looked over the students left at his table, they had lost a few of the seventh years, some people he had never taken the time to know, and one sixth year. He couldn't say he was surprised, there were always exceptions to the house stereotypes.

He almost laughed at the irony, that 'noble, strong' Gryffindors would turn to the dark side, but held it inside. He didn't want Hermione thinking he was going insane finally, but then again, it would explain a lot. _She probably already thinks I am, after all she was the one who started talking about how people who are connected to evil usually turn evil before she remembered that my scar connected me to good ol' Voldie and shut up._

He touched the lightning bolt above his eye, lightly grazing the scar with the callused pad of his pointer finger. The scar hadn't disappeared with the demise of Tom Riddle, but Harry wasn't too disappointed.

In fact, he had grown rather attached to it over the years, if you could get attached to something that connected you to an evil mastermind who murdered your family and sent you visions of people dying every other night.

He saw Hermione turn her attention to him in the corner of his eye and immediately dropped his hand and picked up his fork, which still had a carrot speared onto its four prongs.

"You okay, Harry?" she asked, looking at him in concern.

Harry looked at her questioningly. "What do you mean? Have I been acting weird?"

Hermione shook her head 'No', but her gaze was calculating as she continued to stare at him. "No, not any weirder than usual." She tried to make a joke out of it and laughed a little. When Harry didn't join in she laughed again, nervously this time. "Well, just making sure!"

Harry smiled at her. "Of course." Hermione turned back to her conversation with Ron and Harry dislodged the carrot off his fork, then using the utensil to push around his mashed potatoes again.

"Umm, Harry?" he started as Neville touched his arm hesitantly. "Ah! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Sorry Neville, it wasn't your fault." Harry rushed to stop the boy from crying, since the final battle the little self-confidence he had before had been shattered, even Snape didn't pick on him as much for fear he would go jump off the Astronomy Tower in his depression. "I wasn't paying attention. What did you need?"

Neville worried his bottom lip, looking like he was debating mentally whether or not he would ask something of Harry. The brunette took pity on him after almost a minute. "Tell me, Neville." He said, in the voice he always used when he needed something done _now_. It worked just as well on Neville as it did on everyone else.

"I was wondering i-if you could come w-with me to see my parents on S-Saturday." He stuttered out finally.

Harry smiled. "Of course I will, I would love to, Neville." He said warmly, Neville blushed and muttered something under his breath, turning back to his own untouched plate. "You should really eat something, Neville, nothing good comes out of starving yourself." The shy boy nodded jerkily and picked up his fork with a wavering hand. Harry watched him to make sure he actually ate the food before turning back to his plate.

Under his breath, Harry cast a spell that would monitor Neville, to make sure he didn't just vomit it all up later. The thinning Gryffindor didn't notice as his skin pulsed a faint white for a second then went back to normal, he was too busy muttering under his breath and subconsciously trying to strangle his fork.

Harry took a bite out of a roll that had long turned cold, it tasted like sawdust on his tongue and he had to fight to swallow and not immediately spit it out. He didn't take another bite.

* * *

Harry walked alone down the hallways of Hogwarts, he was taking one of the side passages that no one really knew about, one he could travel down without worrying about anyone bothering him. In his right hand he clutched a scrap of parchment, crumpled up and creased from the many times he had unfolded and folded it.

He kept his mind carefully blank, not thinking about where exactly he was going and for what purpose. His state of calm ended abruptly as a hand came out of nowhere and grabbed his arm. Harry didn't react as he normally would, instead of tensing his relaxed somewhat and let the hand pull him into the shadows.

"Hello, love." The words were whispered in his ear as the hand retreated to be replaced with warm arms pulling him against a solid, recognizable chest. Harry looked up in the dark to where he knew eyes watched him.

"Hello." He said softly in reply. Soft lips touched his in chaste kiss, shooting fire through his veins, and pulled away.

"Miss me much?" the voice, deep and soft, was filled with the love and warmth that Harry had always yearned for. His eyes adjusted to the dark and green met grey. He smiled and closed his eyes, leaning up for another kiss. _Everyone's a hypocrite, and I'm no exception._

"Always."

* * *

Yeah, it was short. I suppose I could say I'm sorry, but it's always a hard phrase to say. Inn't it? So you'll have to do with: LOVE! REVIEW! (Don't we all just love beggars?)

Oh yes, and before I forget like I did for my other story: Disclaimer! This goes for my other story 'Therapy with Snape' if it counts (which it shoudl...), I don't own any of Jk's characters or any publishing rights, which I wish I did...oh how I would mess with every book that comes my way. The only thing I own is my twisted mind and the plot.

I'll get around to the one for Therapy with Snape...sooner or later...meh, why can't they just understand that I won't steal the book? I've got one copy of Sorceror's Stone after my brother took the second copy and all the other books to vt for a permanent borrow, smart him.


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